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The Maps of Camarines: A Novel
A chronicle of the decline and fall of a powerful family that’s ruled by greed and destiny
Set in a fictional province in the Philippines, the novel tells the story of the Arguelleses, the Visbales, and the Monsantillos—and their eventual downfall.
The three families are members of powerful, wealthy haciendero clans that have long stood uncontested by those in their midst. But beneath the gleam and glitter of their lives lie age-old secrets that speak of deceit, greed, and corruption. Sins amassed over generations will come to a head, calamities and death will wreak havoc on the land, transgressors will face vengeance—and so the cycle goes on.
The Maps of Camarines is a chronicle of the forces that have and continue to assail Philippine society today, as well as the consequences if they are left to fester in the time to come
Set in a fictional province in the Philippines, the novel tells the story of the Arguelleses, the Visbales, and the Monsantillos—and their eventual downfall.
The three families are members of powerful, wealthy haciendero clans that have long stood uncontested by those in their midst. But beneath the gleam and glitter of their lives lie age-old secrets that speak of deceit, greed, and corruption. Sins amassed over generations will come to a head, calamities and death will wreak havoc on the land, transgressors will face vengeance—and so the cycle goes on.
The Maps of Camarines is a chronicle of the forces that have and continue to assail Philippine society today, as well as the consequences if they are left to fester in the time to come
222 pages, Paperback
Published July 31, 2023
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August 3, 2023saysay; Many thanks to Penguin SEA for a copy in exchange for a review!
“When a world is created, a map of it is made. When the map fades away, so does the world, and all the people who live in it.”
The house as “an asylum for words unsaid, feelings unexpressed, and relationships left behind to fade.”
“All that existed were existing because they were written down on paper.”
The Maps of Camarines is an alternate history of a province under the thumb of three Spanish families. In this, the house bears witness to their many sins; in this, the presence of ghosts augur for their ruination. It is the province of women to keep the secret histories of the names they marry into, and oh, what secrets! The perspective of the Arguelleses, Monsantillos, and Visbales are privileged here, but the land cries out.
This multi-general narrative benefits from the inherent mythology of the land and its language. From Spain, the three patriarchs brought their families here and wrestled ownership from the people, and this is the original sin. While Moll chose to tell it from the perspective of their descendants, it is clear that they are the villains of a story of which we are still part. The violence with which they created wealth is teased out at times with prettily worded justification, at times with blood on the page. Reading this, I had to reckon with two wolves inside me: one, the Filipino born into a specific family, with its specific history—its associations, its bygone wealth, its sins—and the other, the Filipino that is the product of my radical education. I rooted for the Arguelleses (a strength of Moll’s writing), and for consequence, too.
In particular, I was drawn to what Moll says about history—about the need for a record, about how even that—when it is disappeared, either by hand or by magic—fails. What good is it if kept secret? What good is it if only the walls know?
There is so much to love here, especially the language. Gemino Abad says that a transformation happens to English when wielded by Filipino hands, and the novel illustrates that point. There’s a specific cadence that can only be assumed by one weaned on our stories. And yet for all that, the novel stutters before finding its rhythm. In the beginning, there is an effort to translate. (This latter point is a matter of preference. I’d much rather that the writer commits, to show instead of tell, but anyway, Moll drops this. And we go on.)
One issue I have is how slim the novel is. For a story that spans generations and haciendas, 200 pages leaves something to be desired. The sense of foreboding trumps the climax. The pacing, as the genre dictates, takes its time, but then rushes. If only it continued on, this would have been really satisfying, like I had my fill. As it is, I was left wanting.
All in all, The Maps of Camarines, despite its minor flaws, is a wonderful interrogation of the sins we inherit, set against the backdrop of Filipino history. Must read for fans of Rosario Cruz-Lucero and Dean Alfar.
—
My god, what a novel! Filipino writers of that specific Gemino Abad articulation have me by the throat. Many thanks to Penguin SEA for a copy in exchange for an honest review. Thoughts to come.
“When a world is created, a map of it is made. When the map fades away, so does the world, and all the people who live in it.”
The house as “an asylum for words unsaid, feelings unexpressed, and relationships left behind to fade.”
“All that existed were existing because they were written down on paper.”
The Maps of Camarines is an alternate history of a province under the thumb of three Spanish families. In this, the house bears witness to their many sins; in this, the presence of ghosts augur for their ruination. It is the province of women to keep the secret histories of the names they marry into, and oh, what secrets! The perspective of the Arguelleses, Monsantillos, and Visbales are privileged here, but the land cries out.
This multi-general narrative benefits from the inherent mythology of the land and its language. From Spain, the three patriarchs brought their families here and wrestled ownership from the people, and this is the original sin. While Moll chose to tell it from the perspective of their descendants, it is clear that they are the villains of a story of which we are still part. The violence with which they created wealth is teased out at times with prettily worded justification, at times with blood on the page. Reading this, I had to reckon with two wolves inside me: one, the Filipino born into a specific family, with its specific history—its associations, its bygone wealth, its sins—and the other, the Filipino that is the product of my radical education. I rooted for the Arguelleses (a strength of Moll’s writing), and for consequence, too.
In particular, I was drawn to what Moll says about history—about the need for a record, about how even that—when it is disappeared, either by hand or by magic—fails. What good is it if kept secret? What good is it if only the walls know?
There is so much to love here, especially the language. Gemino Abad says that a transformation happens to English when wielded by Filipino hands, and the novel illustrates that point. There’s a specific cadence that can only be assumed by one weaned on our stories. And yet for all that, the novel stutters before finding its rhythm. In the beginning, there is an effort to translate. (This latter point is a matter of preference. I’d much rather that the writer commits, to show instead of tell, but anyway, Moll drops this. And we go on.)
One issue I have is how slim the novel is. For a story that spans generations and haciendas, 200 pages leaves something to be desired. The sense of foreboding trumps the climax. The pacing, as the genre dictates, takes its time, but then rushes. If only it continued on, this would have been really satisfying, like I had my fill. As it is, I was left wanting.
All in all, The Maps of Camarines, despite its minor flaws, is a wonderful interrogation of the sins we inherit, set against the backdrop of Filipino history. Must read for fans of Rosario Cruz-Lucero and Dean Alfar.
—
My god, what a novel! Filipino writers of that specific Gemino Abad articulation have me by the throat. Many thanks to Penguin SEA for a copy in exchange for an honest review. Thoughts to come.
July 4, 2023
“𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙩.”
Set in the 1950s, after WWII has concluded, three Spanish patriarch families, Arguelles, Monsantillos, and Visbales, migrated in a fictional province in the Philippines called Camarines.
Dominated by the pioneer family, the Arguelles, who also owned the largest grabbed lands from spanish friars and filipinos, Camarines seemed to be a bountiful agricultural land surrounded by mountains that protects the town from typhoons and with rich and fertile soil irrigated naturally by rivers and lakes.
This is a downfall tale of the families due to the inevitable degradation of power caused by aging secrets sheltered by the glistening glamour of their corrupted 𝙝𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙤 lifestyle.
It was a breath of fresh air for me to finally read on my own culture and tradition in an eloquent and compelling writing of Moll. She was successful in threading a multigenerational story in the confines of 222 pages overshadowing the past and future of each members of the three families.
The enigmatic characters were so interesting that I have hoped for the author to have expounded more on their development because I wouldn’t mind if the story was made into a series, instead. It also touched the well kept struggles of the older women in a highly patriarchal society where they’re just expected to become good mothers—their highest possible form of achievement. On the other hand, it featured also the slow transition as the western culture was introduced together with the English language.
Personally, I was riveted by the fluidity and directness of writing despite the discussion of heavy themes from domestic abuse to violence in the affluent households (where love cannot be expressed explicitly) that made me finish the book in just two days.
I highly recommend this book to historical fiction fans and most specially to my co-filipino readers. This is our history, our blood stained heritage after the five-century long occupation of the spaniards in our homeland that cultivated our identity today.
Set in the 1950s, after WWII has concluded, three Spanish patriarch families, Arguelles, Monsantillos, and Visbales, migrated in a fictional province in the Philippines called Camarines.
Dominated by the pioneer family, the Arguelles, who also owned the largest grabbed lands from spanish friars and filipinos, Camarines seemed to be a bountiful agricultural land surrounded by mountains that protects the town from typhoons and with rich and fertile soil irrigated naturally by rivers and lakes.
This is a downfall tale of the families due to the inevitable degradation of power caused by aging secrets sheltered by the glistening glamour of their corrupted 𝙝𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙤 lifestyle.
It was a breath of fresh air for me to finally read on my own culture and tradition in an eloquent and compelling writing of Moll. She was successful in threading a multigenerational story in the confines of 222 pages overshadowing the past and future of each members of the three families.
The enigmatic characters were so interesting that I have hoped for the author to have expounded more on their development because I wouldn’t mind if the story was made into a series, instead. It also touched the well kept struggles of the older women in a highly patriarchal society where they’re just expected to become good mothers—their highest possible form of achievement. On the other hand, it featured also the slow transition as the western culture was introduced together with the English language.
Personally, I was riveted by the fluidity and directness of writing despite the discussion of heavy themes from domestic abuse to violence in the affluent households (where love cannot be expressed explicitly) that made me finish the book in just two days.
I highly recommend this book to historical fiction fans and most specially to my co-filipino readers. This is our history, our blood stained heritage after the five-century long occupation of the spaniards in our homeland that cultivated our identity today.
December 31, 2023
Loved it, I almost couldn't sleep last night because I badly wanted to finish the last couple of chapter. But I have so many lingering questions and I feel like there's still unfulfilled potential for this novel. Full review to follow but giving this 4.5 stars for now.
December 31, 2023
Would have wanted a different ending but this book has kept me on edge most of the time.
August 26, 2024
This is essentially a Filipino Gothic and I enjoyed every page of it. Moll did a wonderful job setting out the haunting of family legacies (which is, the responsibility of the current generation that comes with inheriting familial wealth) and foreshadowing the implications of having to bear that said responsibility. The Maps of Camarines is really about how history is not truly "history" in the sense that its effects are still experienced in the present - so Moll elegantly delved into the legacies of land seizures, widening inequality and political corruption.
In the spirit of Gothic writing, I loved how house was portrayed as an agent in its own right, and made unique by being imbued with Philippine folklore (and its interactions with Catholicism) and magical realism. The haciendera and the family living on it were "two entities that existed separately at the beginning but over the decades had become inextricably melded to each other, the misfortune of one directly becoming the misfortune of the other." This entwinement points to the tangibility and sacrifices required for wealth; it alludes to not just the physicality/tangibility but also the weight of history (of injustice/inequality) and its long-lasting effects.
I think this book has so much unfulfilled potential. You are left pretty much hanging when it comes to questions of the true gravity of what the three families in Camarines had done over the decades/how they were intertwined - any mention that gives you some sense of that is rather brief and was not exactly appalling simply because too much was left unsaid. Some of the allusions made left enough ambiguity for you to make inferences on how truly messed up things were (e.g., the "true" relationship between Beatriz and the Arguelleses) but there's so much room to elaborate on that. Despite this ambiguity, I appreciate how the ending the was left open-ended but with some level of optimism (in the form of Assumpta's revelation at the very end) - I think that points to the general uncertainty of how trajectories can unfold, and how seemingly singular decisions can have long-lasting impact.
In the spirit of Gothic writing, I loved how house was portrayed as an agent in its own right, and made unique by being imbued with Philippine folklore (and its interactions with Catholicism) and magical realism. The haciendera and the family living on it were "two entities that existed separately at the beginning but over the decades had become inextricably melded to each other, the misfortune of one directly becoming the misfortune of the other." This entwinement points to the tangibility and sacrifices required for wealth; it alludes to not just the physicality/tangibility but also the weight of history (of injustice/inequality) and its long-lasting effects.
I think this book has so much unfulfilled potential. You are left pretty much hanging when it comes to questions of the true gravity of what the three families in Camarines had done over the decades/how they were intertwined - any mention that gives you some sense of that is rather brief and was not exactly appalling simply because too much was left unsaid. Some of the allusions made left enough ambiguity for you to make inferences on how truly messed up things were (e.g., the "true" relationship between Beatriz and the Arguelleses) but there's so much room to elaborate on that. Despite this ambiguity, I appreciate how the ending the was left open-ended but with some level of optimism (in the form of Assumpta's revelation at the very end) - I think that points to the general uncertainty of how trajectories can unfold, and how seemingly singular decisions can have long-lasting impact.
July 23, 2023
#TheMapsOfCamarines was hauntingly beautiful, and will enthrall any reader for countless re-readings, all guaranteed to make anyone pause and marvel at how Ms Moll was able to capture the beauty and fleetingness of the supernatural. She was able to skillfully meshed reality with the spectral, and just like its house and its secrets, this book will be one of those rare ones that will pleasantly remain a mystery, even in many years of re-reading.
October 3, 2025
One of the best books that I’ve read this year. 😍
June 4, 2025
“For the Arguelleses, God and the hacienda were one, the latter existing because of the former, and so it was not their only mission but their birthright and the destiny of their bloodline.”
I first got interested in this book as someone from Bicol who has seen political dynasties take hold of most cities and provinces in the region from before I was born and likely even a generation after me. While the book was not about the exact current families in political positions, it is a satisfying tale of what happens next after a family’s feudal power and greed accumulate over time and reaches its due, ideally at least.
The Maps of Camarines is about three fictional clans (the Arguelleses on the front with the Monsantillos and Visbals on the wings) who migrated from Spain to become hacienderos in Camarines during the Spanish Colonial rule of the country. We meet the families in the 1950s as established powers who control the land and lifestyle in the province. This is also the time when the real and magical forces destined to be their downfall are already brewing.
The story is reminiscent of the biblical Ten Plagues of Egypt in which the families are slowly punished through natural and man-made disasters due brought by deceit, murder, abuse, and other sins the family has accumulated over the generations. The narrator constantly reminds us of their upcoming doom and we do see it slowly manifest.
The novel combines things I love to read about and combines them well: a pastoral setting in Bicol, historical fiction, some magical realism, family sagas, and the elite abusive landlords meeting their doom. Reading it felt like reading an actual historical account of a family with how it was written by an omniscient narrator following a large cast of characters.
In a talk with the author I have attended, she mentioned the tendency to over-describe especially about the house. It still did manifest even after the editing. The setting and characters were richly detailed with generous descriptions of the architecture of the houses, the management of the haciendas, the religious practices within the interplay of pagan and Christian beliefs of the time, and the interconnected history of the families spanning a century.
However, with this style of writing, I looked for more character interactions since there were only snippets of actual dialogue. There’s a tendency of the narrator telling us all about the characters rather than actually having them and their words up and close for the reader to know them.
I wished there were clearer answers for some of the mysteries teased in the book. Mysterious secrets and crimes were teased for the most part of the story but by the end, I feel like we barely scratched the extent of the corruption of these families. While it is intentional to have these characters taking center stage and show how out-of-touch with reality they are, I think the story could’ve been expanded with more perspectives from the common people of Camarines aside from Filomena and the servants.
The Maps of Camarines is a very welcome addition to Filipino Historical Fiction literature that features the Philippines' timeless wonders, as well as its timeless problems.
“On that Christmas Eve, while she slept, flowers began to grow on her bed and clothes, their roots white and as fine as hair that could weave through the fibers of the fabrics, getting their nourishment from Beatriz’s very essence, not so much drinking her in but expanding her, waking up for her, growing from tendril to bud to full bloom on behalf of her.”
April 22, 2025
𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗲𝘄 | 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗽𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀
⭐️ 3/5
set in the 1940s, the novel features an alternate history of a province in bicol, philippines where three rich Spanish families strive for power and ravage the lands of camarines. the story revolves around the characters’ secret histories and ghosts of their ancestors’ sins.
this book is one of those i looked forward for two reasons: (1) the author is a Filipino and (2) the book is set in our very own region. i mean, imagine my excitement when one of the fictional characters studied in the university i currently go to?! (lol) it was also fun reading about bicol mythology and some traditions which i can still observe today.
the book had so many beautifully written lines and the premise was promising. the book also had a very timely message: the importance of documenting history and actually learning it. the build up of the climax was immensely foreboding, making me anticipate for the “big reveal”.
unfortunately, the pacing was not sustained and it felt rushed and i was left wanting more. there was so much to look forward with certain characters’ development, but in the end, there was little to none. the story had so much potential, exposing many generations of powerful families and their exploitations and consistent hunger for wealth and power and how this generational curse was transferred to their descendants; and how these inspired the people to eventually resist. but then again, these were not sufficiently highlighted.
i feel like this could’ve easily been included in my favorite list if it was a little longer and delved more on its socio-political themes. nonetheless, the novel was a delightful read where we confront the sins we inherit and the secrets we keep, for the sake of family and untainted social image.
⭐️ 3/5
set in the 1940s, the novel features an alternate history of a province in bicol, philippines where three rich Spanish families strive for power and ravage the lands of camarines. the story revolves around the characters’ secret histories and ghosts of their ancestors’ sins.
this book is one of those i looked forward for two reasons: (1) the author is a Filipino and (2) the book is set in our very own region. i mean, imagine my excitement when one of the fictional characters studied in the university i currently go to?! (lol) it was also fun reading about bicol mythology and some traditions which i can still observe today.
the book had so many beautifully written lines and the premise was promising. the book also had a very timely message: the importance of documenting history and actually learning it. the build up of the climax was immensely foreboding, making me anticipate for the “big reveal”.
unfortunately, the pacing was not sustained and it felt rushed and i was left wanting more. there was so much to look forward with certain characters’ development, but in the end, there was little to none. the story had so much potential, exposing many generations of powerful families and their exploitations and consistent hunger for wealth and power and how this generational curse was transferred to their descendants; and how these inspired the people to eventually resist. but then again, these were not sufficiently highlighted.
i feel like this could’ve easily been included in my favorite list if it was a little longer and delved more on its socio-political themes. nonetheless, the novel was a delightful read where we confront the sins we inherit and the secrets we keep, for the sake of family and untainted social image.
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